大象传媒

In 1943 and 44 I lived at 17 Cromer Road, Ipswich which backs onto the main Ipswich to Yarmouth railway line. My father was away in the Army which left me and my mother on our own. I can not remember exactly the order of events I will be writing about.
Smells like hesian sacks remind me of the bunk bed in our Anderson air raid shelter which was used for the mattress. The smell of rubber when we practiced fitting on our gas masks. Boiled fish when I stayed at Anglesea Road Hospital for an operation when I was 6 years old.
My Mother and I came home one evening to find the windows in our house had been blown out, to find the house on the corner of Kelvin Road had been bombed, which is just around the corner. When we went into the house all of the downstairs rooms were completely covered in soot. Unfortunately, the next morning my Mother was told the lady in Kelvin Road had been killed.
One day my mother took me to the first house at the Ipswich Hippodrome. Half way through the second half the air raid sirens sounded. Consequently we were ushered out into Cuttler Street next to the Sailors Rest Hostel. People were shouting to stay close to the wall as bullets were hitting the road in St Nicholas Street, as German FIghters were straffing and bombing Ipswich Docks.
One night the air raid siren sounded and my Mother and I went out to the air raid shelter in the back garden. After a while the ominous sound of a dreaded Doodle Bug or V1 came from the East. When it was directly overhead the sound of the engine cut. My Mother had heard on the radio news that when the engine cut on these rockets they would come directly down, so we quickly got into the air raid shelter and huddled in the corner waiting for the bang! We waited but nothing happened, so we stayed in the shelter until the all clear siren sounded. The next day it was reported in the Evening Star that a V1 had landed in a field at Whitton without exploding. We were lucky!

My Farther was admitted into an Army hospital in Bristol and my Mother decided we would go and visit him. I remember travelling on the train to Liverpool Street Station in London, and crossing London to St pancras Station, on the way seeing the devastation of the Blitz, and this was the same picture when we reached Bristol. On the way home , when we reached London, there was an air raid going on , and we were directed to the Underground which was being used as air raid shelters. The thing I can remeber was the number of people down there, and the friendliness of them to us, offering food, tea, songs, although you could hear the thump of the bombs overhead.
There will be sounds I will never forget; the air raid sirens, and the ominous throb of the Doodle Bug engines.
In conclusion the sign of the times I think was the comrardery of people, and the willingness of people to help each other, which I find lacking today.

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